


There Is More to the Deep Blue than the Eye Can Fathom

by midnightphoenix13



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Half-Mermaid Will, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightphoenix13/pseuds/midnightphoenix13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's unique heritage offers a new way of dealing with the likes of Barbossa and Commodore Norrington. But will he be able to resist the lure of the sea, and the man who embodies it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

I always thought of myself as cursed.

With having a father I had never met or at least too early for me to remember, although my mother often spoke of him; a merchant sailor who had left and was sure to return soon – he never did. My mother wasted away, all the years waiting for him to return, trapped in Glasgow, trapped on land.

My mother was a mermaid. I know, I didn’t believe her either, at first anyway.

I was always told to stay away from the water. There were many reasons, excuses – you can’t swim, William; it’s dirty, William; there are dangerous creatures, William; because I said so, William. Like the dutiful son I was, I listened. Then she told me of how she met my father, of what she had been, of what I was, and as I said before, I didn’t believe. So the first chance I had, I went into the water.

I had never felt such pain; in my whole life I have found nothing that can compare. I was so surprised, I sank to the bottom and when the pain stopped I was sitting on the river bed, a large glimmering tail spread in front of me. I spent hours in the water that day; it felt so natural that I started to resent my mother for not allowing me to go into the water earlier. 

When I saw how late the day was, and pulled myself onto the bank and the change began, I realised the truth – my mother had gone through this change; she had left the water, her home, and never looked back. I then thought her the strongest woman in the world. 

I returned home and I had never before seen my mother that frantic, so I went and embraced her straight away, and I told her I was sorry; sorry for being out so long, for not believing her, and sorry for her loss. When she whispered, ‘what have I lost?’ I answered, ‘your true home’. She burst into tears and told me that I was her true home. We were much closer after that day – she shared her memories of the past and I shared my dreams for the future. 

A year later and she was lost to me forever – the separation from the sea had slowly killed her without father by her side and her bond to me only kept her going for so long. I only hope father never knew what would happen to her when he left.

I quickly found a ship that would take me out to the Caribbean; I was to go in search of my father. He had sent me a medallion shortly before mother’s death, and I kept it with me at all times, hoping it might lead me in the right direction. 

But then the pirates attacked us and I was thrown into the sea; the pain was unbearable. I fought the change as hard as I could. It was something mother had taught me, due to my being of man and mermaid; that my own force of will could keep me human in the water for limited periods of time. I could only keep it up for a short while, but it was long enough that I was able to pull myself out of the water onto a large piece of the destroyed ship before everything faded to black.

I awoke suddenly, finding myself on board a naval ship, with a young girl standing over me. She started babbling away, and the only part I really heard was when she told me her name. I answered with mine as well as I could, my manners demanding it even feeling short of breath. Before long, the blackness had encroached once more.


	2. Chapter 2

William sighed as he made his way out of the smithy and headed towards the governor’s mansion with the sword he had made for the naval promotion ceremony. The governor wanted to inspect the workmanship before he handed it to the newly made Commodore.

Stopping at the top of the hill, William stared over Port Royal and out to the ocean beyond. He could feel an ache fill his chest at the sight, one that begged him to enter the water, but he reminded himself to be strong, like his mother was. He hadn’t entered the sea since he arrived in Port Royal almost ten years ago, when he was sponsored by the governor at the urging of his daughter, Elizabeth, and apprenticed under Mr Brown, the blacksmith.

He finally turned his head away and continued through the mansion gates, the sword box tucked under his arm weighing him down heavily. 

After ringing the bell and being left to wait in the entrance hall by the butler, William felt another tired sigh trying to force itself out of his chest, so he distracted himself by inspecting a nearby sconce. Touching it gently, he was shocked when a piece broke off in his hands. He looked around quickly when he heard footsteps before quickly slipping the piece into a vase holding umbrellas and canes, nodding politely at the butler as he passed. William then quickly moved to greet Governor Swann, when he saw him coming down the stairs.

“Ah, Mr Turner, good to see you again,” came the polite and always amiable tone of the governor.

“Good day, sir. I have your order.” William laid the box on the hall table, raising the lid and carefully lifting out one of his finest creations for the governor to handle. “The blade is folded steel, that’s gold filigree laid into the handle.” The drawn sword shone in the light filtering through the windows. “If I may,” William held out his hand for the sword, and once it was passed over he rested the blade comfortably on the tip of his thumb. “Perfectly balanced, the tang is nearly the full width of the blade.” He performed a stylish flip of the sword through the air, before presenting it to the governor once more. 

“Impressive, very impressive.” There was a pleasant tone as the sword was sheathed. “Oh now, Commodore Norrington is going to be very pleased with this.” He handed the weapon back and William placed it gently into the cushioned box. “Do pass my compliments onto your master, hm?” William looked up, slightly startled, before pasting a pleasant smile on his face.

“I shall, a craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated.” He couldn’t help but add the last comment, his tone slightly sarcastic. They both turned towards the stairs upon hearing footsteps. 

“Oh Elizabeth, you look absolutely stunning.” The governor praised, as his daughter stopped on the stairs after seeing them.

“Will! So good to see you,” she hurried down the rest of the steps to greet him. “I had a dream about you last night.”

“About me?” asked Will, curiously.

“Elizabeth is that entirely proper for you to…” Governor Swann started, but his daughter just talked over him.

“About the day we met, do you remember?” She asked quickly.

“How could I forget, Miss Swann?” William answered, his smile turning warmer at the familiar banter.

“Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?” A large smile was on her face as she leaned forward slightly. Remembering the presence of the governor, Will forced himself back behind his polite veneer.

“At least once more, Miss Swann, as always,” he replied with an apologetic smile, although he could tell she had been hurt slightly at the comment.

“There you see, at least the boy has a sense of propriety. Now, we really must be going. Farewell.” Picking up the sword box, the governor moved away.

“Good day, Mr Turner.” Elizabeth said coldly, her face blank, and Will winced inwardly, he would pay for that later.

“Come along,” Governor Swann called, Will watching as she went to the door before following after, along with two of the governor’s staff. 

“Good day,” Will called after the retreating figures. “Elizabeth.” He added quietly, standing on the mansion’s front steps as the butler closed the door behind him.

A sigh exited his mouth before he could stop it, masked by the rattling carriage wheels as it was driven out the gates. Seeing Elizabeth had settled the ache somewhat. She was a good friend, although Will always felt guilty using the feelings she held for him as an anchor, as he knew he could never return them.

Will started on his way towards town, following the wheel tracks and thinking on what Elizabeth had said his hand went up to his throat, attempting to grasp at something he hadn’t worn for ten years; the medallion from his father. He hadn’t seen it since his crossing. 

A cold shudder suddenly ripped down his spine, forcing him to a halt and turning his head quickly so he was looking at the distant ocean horizon. His brow creased into a frown as he looked into himself, the same place of the ache, and then he knew. Something was coming, something bad – he had to be ready. Quickening his pace to as fast a walk as was proper (had to look out for appearances after all) he headed to the smithy: he had work to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Will knew something was wrong before he even entered the smithy; a foreign presence to his senses was inside. He had left not long ago to pick up a new whetstone, and had heard about the incident at the military docks from a variety of sources as he made his way back. Preparing himself for anything, although he knew that this presence was not hostile, he pulled the door open.

The first thing he noticed was the panicked donkey and he quickly moved to calm the spooked animal. He had always been able to create a connection with animals using his mind; something else he had inherited from his mother, so he decided to try it here. Stroking the donkey’s nose gently and using the telepathic link, he sent calming feelings as well as a tentative question towards the animal. He received a rush of images and feelings in return.

Strange man; front hooves tied; fire stick; pain, pain, pain.

Will forced himself not to look around for the man the donkey had shown him; instead he sent more intense feelings of calm back, the animal finally relaxing, before moving away. He placed the bag with the whetstone down on a table as he looked towards Mr Brown’s usual corner.

“Right where I left you,” He commented as if to himself, while removing his suit coat; he tried to sense the location of the intruder as he saw Mr Brown passed out in his usual chair, an empty bottle on the floor that had dropped from his lax fingers. He turned, unbuttoning his waistcoat and noticed his hammer lying on the anvil. “Not where I left you.” 

A tri-corner hat was propped up on the hammer’s usual hook. Will reached forward to move the hat and wasn’t surprised when a blade hit the top of his hand. He looked up and got caught in dark kohl rimmed eyes; the ache was back again, fierce in his chest. Startled, Will took a step backward and the pirate advanced; the sword now at Will’s throat. 

“You’re the one they’re hunting.” He stated; it was a chore just to manage that short sentence, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The pirate tilted his head.

“You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?” It is asked with curiosity and a squinty eyed glance. Will swallowed the witty, aggressive remark he felt at the tip of his tongue, and chose a more bemused tone.

“I think I would remember if you had.” He felt a smile tugging at his lips due to the strange pirate in front of him, but held it back successfully.

“Ah, well then,” seemingly confused at Will’s lack of hostility, the pirate backs away slightly. “Now that I have, we can both remember if it happens again. So, if you’ll excuse me…” The pirate turns away, is going to leave, and Will moves before he can think. He just wants the man to stay, however illogical, and the sword he hastily grabbed is now pointed directly at the pirate, and they both look a bit shocked at the action. “Do you think this wise, boy, crossing blades with a pirate?” 

“Probably not, but it seemed like the thing to do.” Will said honestly, still a bit in wonder at himself for doing it in the first place. The pirate grins and the swords spark slightly as they meet in a parry.

“You know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that. Excellent form, but how’s your footwork? If I step here,” the man takes a few cross steps and Will follows; he is starting to feel giddy and he hasn’t felt anything like it since his mother was alive. “Very good, now I step again. Ta.” They have exchanged places now and Will watches as the pirate sheathes his sword and walks towards the door, again, and Will reacts in a similar way to before, although this time he throws the sword and it is with such force that it gets stuck in the wood of the door inches from the pirate’s head, whistling as it sways in place. 

As Will tries to get himself back under control; he hasn’t acted without thinking first since he was a child and now he’s done it twice in less than five minutes, the pirate tugs ineffectually at the handle of the impaled sword. 

“That is a wonderful trick,” Will feels slightly smug as the pirate turns back towards him, unable to leave, “except once again you are between me and my way out, and now you have no weapon.” He starts to stalk forward and Will twists slightly to grab the unfinished sword that he had left to heat in the kiln. He sends a silent apology in the donkey’s direction as it starts to panic at the sight of the red hot metal. 

Using the donkey as a distraction the pirate moves to go around, but Will lunges forward and they clash blades once more. The softer heated metal is soon flung from Will’s grip as the pirate uses the chains still around his wrists to his advantage, but this is Will’s territory and he quickly slides another sword from the rack on one of the turning wheels to block the pirate’s next blow. The pirate is obviously surprised as he sees the dozens of fine blades on display on the rotating columns. 

“Who makes all these?” The tone is slightly awed, and Will takes a moment to feel proud as he answers. 

“I do.” Taking hold of another sword in his left, as the other grabs a hammer, they move back towards the front door, stepping onto a cart which sways beneath them as the fight continues. Remembering the trick the pirate had used earlier, Will twists one of his blades into the dangling irons, and throws it up into the beam above, trapping the pirate and earning himself a board to the chin as the other man knocks it loose. 

Shaking his head, Will stands and watches as the pirate uses his full body weight to try and pry the blade free from the beam, moving back onto the cart cautiously. He is suddenly thrown up into the rafters when the sword comes free, and the pirate hits the cart, tumbling down to the straw strewn floor. 

He waits patiently as the pirate steps back onto the cart, his gaze darting around trying to spot where Will was hiding before looking up just in time as Will cuts the line holding up a net of barrels; sending the pirate upwards and scrabbling onto one of the beams. 

Jumping from beam to beam, their blades clash again and again; while fighting to keep their balance, before Will finally disarms the pirate, knocking the sword to the floor below. The pirate dives backwards, using his hands to swing off the end of the beam, while Will shows off a little, using his feet and flipping gracefully to the ground first. 

Loud banging starts at the door; distracting Will for a moment, and when he turns back a pistol is aimed at his head. He stares at the man, confused at the sudden change.

“Pirate!” the man states; as if he needing to explain himself. “Please move, this shot isn’t meant for you.” Will’s eyes widen as he realises he is between the pirate and the back door; he had gotten caught up in the fight and forgotten why it had started in the first place. He was about to move aside; he didn’t want the man dead after all, when the pirate’s face went blank and he dropped like a stone to the floor. 

Shocked, Will stared at Mr Brown; who had snuck up behind the pirate and hit him over the head with his empty bottle, he was swaying in place and still holding onto what remained of his bludgeon. His gaze darted to the left as the soldiers finally broke through the door, surrounding the unconscious pirate. He barely heard as the newly made Commodore Norrington congratulated Mr Brown for his assistance, he was too busy fighting with himself - a large part of him just wanted to grab the pirate and take him as far away as possible from the pompous Commodore and his men. 

“Well, I trust you’ll always remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped. Take him away,” ordered Norrington, heading out now that he had had a chance to gloat, William watched them drag the man away dazedly. 

‘Captain Jack Sparrow’, he thought to himself, as the ache grew again with the increasing distance between them, ‘he must not meet the gallows’. Disturbed by his own thoughts, Will pulled on a leather apron and turned to his work, he still needed to get ready - his day wasn’t over yet. 

“Although the same can’t be said for Mr Brown,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed the hammer from the top of the anvil, watching out of the corner of his eye as Mr Brown grabbed a new bottle and slumped back onto his seat, snores quickly reverberating from his direction as the bottle swung in his relaxed grip. 

The hammer was soon placed back in his rightful spot; the pirate’s tri-cornered hat taken by the soldiers, and Will settled down with the new whetstone and his throwing axes, something told him that he would need them later.


End file.
